


Second Best

by AGPrentice



Series: The Missing Enthusiasm Collection [5]
Category: Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:02:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25577008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGPrentice/pseuds/AGPrentice
Summary: This three-part, hopefully funny novella aims to relate Preston Lodge's arrival in Colorado, prior to his boarding the same train that brought Michaela and Sully back from their honeymoon. It might shed a whole new light on Preston's attitude towards the Sullys...
Relationships: Michaela Quinn/Byron Sully
Series: The Missing Enthusiasm Collection [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789849
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

_Tuesday May, 31st, 1870, Denver, Colorado._

Preston A. Lodge the Third stepped down from the passenger car of the train, assuming an air of confident and dignified superiority, unwilling to let the rigors of his journey out West faze him. He was determined to succeed in this new venture, this whole new life he was about to carve out for himself, and no amount of soot, dirt and wrinkles on his clothes could stop him!

He was about to turn thirty-three, and it was high time for him to step out of the tall shadows of his father and four older brothers. They were all well-established, highly successful businessmen, all married to beautiful, proper ladies from the upper crust of Boston, New-York and Washington society. But he, Preston, felt that it was up to him to shake up the complacency his family was nestled in by being the bold one, the one who would embody the American spirit of risk and adventure, and give the Lodge name a new luster. He would use his own financial resources and the business acumen acquired while working alongside his father and eldest brother for the past seven years to forge his own empire. He certainly counted on his well-off relations right here in Denver and his socializing skills to start on the best foot. He would succeed and show his skeptical father what he was capable of!

But first things first, he needed refreshment and a good hot meal after five long days on the train, and a less than pleasant service between St. Louis and Denver. Hailing a streetcar, he asked to be driven to the best hotel in town, then sat back on the upholstered seat with a grateful sigh. He took advantage of the brief ride to take in his surroundings: Denver was not quite as big and impressive as he had envisioned, yet the still rough aspect of the town filled him with the eagerness of the hungry wolf spotting the young and innocent lamb, impatient to sink its fangs into the tender flesh. Preston could barely wait for the moment that he would begin raking in the dollars. So many opportunities seemed right there at his fingertips!

As his transportation stopped in front of the steps of the hotel and a bellboy rushed over to offer his assistance, Preston was still lost in his daydream, so that when he looked up at the elaborate entrance of the edifice, he had the distinctive impression of being struck by a vision of his future. A hotel! Oh, wouldn't that be grand? Now that was something no one would ever expect from him, yet a formidable way to stand out! His heart accelerated as his mind's eye envisioned marble staircases, crystal chandeliers and luxuriant Persian carpets, walls adorned with master paintings and he couldn't help but grin widely at the prospect. The cautiousness his father had tried to instill in his boys, at the same time as a strong taste for competition, had never felt more like heavy chains to Preston than right at this moment when everything seemed possible as long as he stood his ground. Buoyed by this certainty of a bright future ahead, he strode to the front desk with a definite spring in his step.

Harold Whitaker, the chief clerk, instantly perked up at the sight of the gentleman approaching his counter. Like most travelers who came to the hotel straight from the train station, his appearance was quite a bit ruffled, yet there was no denying he came from money, not only because of the high quality materials his stylish suit, tie and hat were made of, but there was that air… Harold had seen enough patrons come and go to tell who was well-bred, and who came from a less sterling background, in one single glance… Like the couple in the nuptial suite, for example. Now those two were an amusing mystery, one most employees had been indiscreetly speculating and whispering about in the kitchens, the laundry room, and even right under his nose. The woman was a physician – _how incongruous!_ – whose accent unmistakably pointed at a privileged background in New England, but who had been living long enough out west to have the uppity edge of that accent rounded off.

Her husband was another story. For someone who was definitely one of those mountain men who populated the Conquest of the West's mythology and seemed more inclined to wear buckskins rather than regular, proper clothes, he was polite, even impressively courteous… well if one discounted the couple of times that young Samuel Fincher, one of the bellhops stationed in their corridor, had most likely interrupted their romance… The most striking feature of the couple, however, wasn't the social gap between them, but their mutual devotion, their burning passion for one another that was as plain as the nose on one's face. They weren't the first, neither would they be the last newlyweds to spend their honeymoon in the hotel, but even to the pragmatic Harold, this couple was sure to stand out in his memory for quite a long time.

When the newcomer cleared his throat with a hint of impatience, Harold shook himself from his musings, realizing nervously that he had made a potential client wait and risked turning him over to a rival hotel. Plastering on his well-practiced, most obsequious smile, the clerk recited with the required cheerful formality:

"Good day, Sir. How may I be of assistance?"

"Good day," Preston brightly answered, quickly dismissing this first tiny incident in his glorious plans as nothing worth getting upset over, as his father would have for certain. "I'd like your best room."

Harold debated for a second whether to announce to this demanding young man that the presidential suite in question was presently occupied, and that was one second too late, for the obviously sharp-minded gentleman picked up on his hesitation. "I see, it's already taken… Well, never mind," he muttered, his lips pursed in vexation.

Once more, Harold feared that the man might seek the luxury of the best suite in another hotel, so he hastened to say, "We have other extremely fine suites, Sir, to accommodate all your needs. We take pride in offering nothing but the best to all our clients, the best view of the mountains, the best _cuisine_ , the best services…" He swiveled around to take the key to the room one-o-six, which was actually the Presidential suite's twin. The suite one-o-seven, occupied by the honeymooning couple, had been deemed the best one because it received the best exposition to the sun, as well as possessed the highest level of privacy, being situated at the end of the corridor before its bend, with only one direct neighboring room, yet still separated by the tiled wall of the wash room.

Seeing the doubtful look upon the man's face, the clerk went on, "The second best room just happens to be still available…"

" _Second_ best?" Preston repeated, frowning as if insulted.

The clerk swallowed nervously, feeling like he had made a beginner's blunder. "I can assure you, Sir, that this suite has very little to envy to the presidential one. And… in order to make up for the inconvenience, let us offer you your first night here, supper and room service included." Harold felt his palms sweat at his own words, wondering whether his manager would approve of such prodigality toward a patron who wasn't a regular, when he hadn't received any explicit instructions for special treatment. He suddenly doubted his own sixth sense when it came to winning the customers' loyalty and then reaping the benefits of a laudatory word-of-mouth… Doing his best to regain his confidence, he gave a firm tap on the call bell to summon a porter to show the new guest to his room and transmit the special instructions for the night to the other members of the staff.

Preston almost refused, yet the offer was too financially interesting, and he thought he could actually enjoy making that impertinent clerk squirm and sweat some more by making full use of the free room service. He didn't intend to stay too long in the hotel anyway, as he hoped his meeting with Ezra Leonard that evening would prove to be fruitful both in term of business openings, but also in quickly locating suitable lodgings. Grinning maliciously, he followed the porter up to the second floor. The room was indeed large and comfortable, though not nearly as luxurious as the best hotels back east. He also noticed with disdain that the indoor plumbing was minimal and didn't allow for taking a hot bath unless someone was to haul primitively heated water into the tub. There was a large kettle on the hob in the chimney, yet, it would take forever heating enough water that way.

"Humph… How does one take a proper bath here?" Preston asked the porter testily.

"Not to worry, Sir. We can draw you a hot bath in two shakes of a lamb's tail. You just gotta ask!"

Preston cringed all the more at the young man's vernacular, but refrained from commenting. If he was to settle out there, he'd better get used to those types as soon as possible, as long as he didn't let his own standards decline.

"Well, I certainly hope so, as I need a bath right now."

"Sure thing, Sir. D'ya need me to send up the barber, too? Maybe have your suit pressed, too?" the bellhop offered, in the hopes of getting a generous tip for his zealous diligence.

Preston stroked his slightly prickly jaw pensively, thinking it wouldn't do to show up at Mr. Leonard's doorstep all scruffy with a rumpled outfit, and nodded his consent.

As promised by the staff, it was only a matter of minutes before Preston was settled comfortably in the tub, a complimentary glass of French champagne in his hand. If this was the hotel policy of making up for any kind of inconveniences that might befall their customers, he wasn't about to complain. This gave him a renewed boost of confidence, as he pictured himself actually enjoying the move so far away from Boston and building the financial empire he was dreaming of… He then tried to imagine his father's reaction, but all he could see was Preston Sr.'s skeptical smirk. But then again, Preston mused, there was no pleasing the old man. It was more important was to make quite an impression on the good people of Denver and its area, to earn the respect and trust of powerful allies, and why not joining the Statehood for Colorado movement, start a political career as well…

"Senator Lodge," he sounded out wistfully, extremely pleased with the result.

With that thought, he emptied his glass and got out of the water so fast he nearly slipped, in his eagerness to get ready in time for his forthcoming meeting with the mining magnate Ezra Leonard. Yet, the brief surge of adrenaline in his veins didn't dampen his spirits one bit.

He would succeed, he was sure of it!

Upon returning from his visit to Mr. Leonard, Preston didn't feel like going down to the smoking room in the hotel, as he had first planned to, to meet and socialize with some prominent businessmen. Leonard's knowledge of the state of affairs in the Colorado territory had been invaluable indeed, yet not quite in the way Preston had expected. Leonard had strongly discouraged him from starting any business right here in Denver. For a moment he thought that maybe Leonard was merely trying to protect the interests of wealthy and influent partners for his own agenda, and even now, as he sipped on the Bourbon he had requested to be brought to his room _pronto_ , he still had doubts regarding Leonard's true intentions. But the more he thought about it, the more what Leonard had said about starting a bank where competition was scarce, better yet inexistent, made sense. The only reason Preston had not considered it as face value right away was that he had been raised into believing that competition was one of the major driving forces of economy alongside free entrepreneurship. But starting where everything needed to be built, being the one to lead an entire community to prosperity? Now that was some challenge! One that was scary and exhilarating at the same time… The tremendous charge was daunting, to say the least, and the question whether he would be up to such a wager kept pricking his thoughts.

Ezra Leonard had read Preston's mind and figured out his deepest ambitions as easily as he could decipher the economic jargon on the financial pages in the newspaper. Yet, he had not laughed them off, nor had he dispensed his advices in a patronizing, even condescending way as Preston Lodge the Second was so prompt to do. In fact, Preston had felt welcomed at dinner, and Leonard's son, Caleb had played a large part in making him feel like he was worthy of approval and admiration. In fact, Caleb's wide-eyed curiosity and enthused comments had awakened in Preston a vague longing none of his nephews ever managed to elicit, that of finding the right woman who would give him a son. One he would raise differently from the way he had been brought up himself. This was compounded by having Ezra taking to calling him _son_ with an unexpectedly pleasant familiarity, and insisting that his new young friend call him on the first name basis as well.

His hotel room now felt far too large, empty and cold in spite of the fire that had been lit in the chimney. It was late spring, nearly summer even. When he had left Boston, the nights there were already being occasionally stuffy. But as balmy as the temperature had been during the day, there was now a definite chill coming from the nearby mountains since sundown. For but a split second, Preston felt gripped by the childish anxiety one experienced when confronted to entirely new faces, places and atmospheres with no familiar objects, landmarks or people there to reassure him. Of course, he shrugged off that silly feeling as soon as it appeared. A Lodge should never allow himself to fear anything or anyone. The unknown was only to be considered in its exciting dimension and its adventurous potential. _Nothing less_. He had nothing to fear. _Nothing at all_.

Right then and there, Preston suddenly changed his mind about going down to the smoking room. He picked up a few Cuban cigars from their box, in case he might need to share one or two with whomever he might make the acquaintance of down there. He certainly intended to keep his eyes and ears peeled for any bit of information that could give him a clue about where to set up his business.

As he jogged down the stairs, he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, struck by the sight of a woman standing near the base of the staircase. She was obviously distinguished, as shown by her attire, but also the way she carried herself, and a light whiff of her floral perfume wafted up to tickle deliciously his nostrils. Her face was turned toward the front desk, so Preston couldn't see whether she was beautiful or not. Yet, what little he did see was already charming, from her thick, reddish gold hair put up in an elegant braided chignon, to the gracious curve of her cheek, jaw and neck. She felt familiar to him, evoking the numerous ladies he had come across at home. But though he couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was that gave him that impression, he knew somehow that the woman wasn't some decorative female who would turn out as a nagging old biddy when getting up in years. No, experience from years of disappointing courting had taught him how to tell women who had little to offer from those worthy of attention, rare women worth fighting for… Women who were the prestigious trophies of an implacable race to win their hand.

He had flirted with countless pretty young women during his days as a bank manager apprentice, at first without seriously looking for tying the knot, but as he had grown more mature, he had found less and less interest in prim chit-chat and superficial banter. The women he had met were for the most part from decent families, and as such had received some basic education, yet they woefully lacked wit and fire. And those of a more disreputable background were hopelessly ignorant, something Preston could never tolerate no matter how physically attractive the woman was. He dreamed of someone cultured and spirited, a woman who could be his perfect match, _truly_ , not just any match deemed suitable enough by both parties' families. He deserved better.

He was well aware, like any other eastern citizen, of the many tales from the frontier about Indians, wild beasts, trigger-happy cowboys and axe-wielding mountain men. He had also heard of those bold, independent and beautiful women who knew how to shoot a gun as well as they could bake an apple pie and stitch up patchwork quilts. They were also, more often than not, depicted as being rather generous with their favors, though Preston suspected this part was mostly made up. At least, he hoped so. A feisty and passionate woman was sure to appeal to him, but he would never consider consorting with someone who lacked the most elementary morals!

Was the woman a few feet from him an adventuress hiding her scheming ways behind a mask of genteel respectability? Or had she already been conquered by one of the pioneering businessmen he was about to mingle with? From where he stood, he couldn't see her left hand.

His heart accelerating, he took a step down, ready to offer his arm to escort her to her room and use the short stroll to learn all he could about her, maybe invite her out to see a play, or have dinner in the fanciest restaurant – provided, of course, there was no husband. But then again, what kind of husband would leave their wife standing alone in the hotel lobby, deserted at this hour? He followed her gaze, but only saw one man leaning casually over the front desk and talking to the night clerk. The man had hair much longer than what was fashionable, and as he concluded his business with the hotel employee, he turned toward the staircase, his loosened tie and his nonchalant, bow-legged gait sure-fire clues that he was no gentleman, but clumsily trying to pose as one. However, Preston's mocking smirk turned sour as the strange man smiled to the woman and she, in turn, extended her hand to him. A hand whose fourth finger sported a sparkling diamond ring and thick wedding band. The man, instead of taking her hand, wrapped his arm around the woman's slender waist with undignified familiarity. Preston half-expected her to swat his arm off her, or at least scold him but to his dismay, she did neither but instead leaned into her lover's embrace and let him lead her up.

Suddenly, Preston realized that if the couple were to look up, they would catch him staring at them. He couldn't let himself be embarrassed in such a way so he did an about-turn, quickly re-ascended the stairs and hid behind a large potted exotic plant. Totally absorbed by one another, the pair walked past him without so much as a suspicious glance in his direction. He sighed with relief, only to feel like all air had been sucked out his lungs as his mind registered the stunning beauty of the woman. No – _beautiful_ wasn't the proper adjective to do her justice. Actually, no word could adequately qualify such a mesmerizing combination of angelic features, absolute radiance – _oh, the way she was looking at that man!_ – the almost regal stance just a few seconds ago, at the foot of the staircase… Though he couldn't clearly make out the words, at they were talking in hushed tones, he could hear the lilt in her sweet voice… What other graces was she hiding from the public eye but showed willingly to her lover?

Once they were far enough, Preston took another peek at them from a gap between two large leaves. The sight that greeted him turned his stomach on two counts – the couple was standing in the front of the far-end room right next to his, and the man was blindly unlocking the door, while being locked in a passionate kiss with the woman. Even from a distance, her enthusiastic abandon was unmistakable. There was no doubt whatsoever about the nature of their next actions once they had disappeared inside…

A surge of boiling hatred and envy scorched Preston's heart and thoughts. How unfair! How unnatural that match was! What in high heaven had happened to bring such opposites together…? Preston tried to get himself back under control. _Think, man, think. Either she is a brainless creature corrupted by one of those questionable characters, or…_ Hard as he tried to make sense out of that situation, _nothing_ did make sense. He kept remembering the obvious signs that they were indeed married, not just engaged in some disgraceful affair, and obviously head over heels with each other… What a slap in the face!

Defeated and bitter, Preston momentarily forgot all about what his plans had been for the evening, the shock of what he had just witnessed even blotting out the happy anticipation he had experienced earlier regarding his business and political ambitions. He drank a couple more glasses of whiskey, then slumped into bed, surrendering to a drunken slumber – his last thought being the disgusting idea of the beautiful woman next door surrendering to what was surely some primeval, rough mating…


	2. Chapter 2

_Wednesday, June 1st, 1870._

Preston felt quite disoriented upon waking up the following morning, but being a sharp-minded man, he quickly regained his bearings. Then he cursed under his breath, upset with himself for letting the occupants of the next suite – _what an incongruous pair_ , he couldn't help but think once more – distract him from his socializing purpose. Who knows how many business opportunities had slipped by him during that time? Fuming, he shook himself awake, ignoring the dull ache behind his eyes and sprang briskly from the bed. He had so many things to do, so many schemes to plan, so many people to solicit for information!

He chose not to request help from the hotel staff for his shave and clothing, preferring to draw out the quiet of the morning as long as possible before he was to plunge into the inevitable hustle and bustle of any shrewd businessman's daily activity. He used the kettle in the chimney to heat up some water, and once he was ready, he decided to have his breakfast outside. It was ten past eight, so there was still a chance he might encounter interesting people, enjoying coffee at a café near their office.

As he locked up his room, he couldn't resist casting a disdainful look towards the next door. As much as he fought the visions, he couldn't help but picture the two occupants as he had saw them the evening before, completely absorbed by one another. The way the long haired man was looking at his mistress – he couldn't truly accept the idea that those two might actually be lawfully married – was expected toward a woman as beautiful as _she_ was. But the fact that she seemed to genuinely return the attraction was beyond him… it had to be only physical attraction. _Lust_. It was the only logical explanation. That woman had to be a depraved creature to prefer to consort with some mountain man – with a _savage_ – rather than with a civilized gentleman like himself!

Yet the bitter venom of envy churned into his stomach. Though he could now decently conceive nothing but absolute contempt toward his unwanted neighbors, that didn't stop the sliver of perverse curiosity sneaking his way into his imagination, making him wonder what it was like to lie with this kind of woman. He had a distinct feeling that she was not a "professional", for she would have chosen someone who would have looked much wealthier – unless, of course, her lover had literally hit pay dirt… Still, his mind kept replaying the hungry kiss the couple had shared before disappearing into their suite over and over, and imagining the rest in masochistic, voyeuristic pleasure…

"May I help you, Sir?"

Preston jumped nervously. He realized he had been standing by his suite door, caught up in a foolish daydream about people he wouldn't want to be associated with for all the gold in California, but like a practiced comedian, he recovered quickly and stared down at the impertinent bellhop. He could have come up with a credible excuse, like he had learned to do whenever he had to justify any action his father had viewed as misconduct, but then this was only a bellboy, and he certainly wasn't about to explain himself to some meaningless hotel employee!

"No, thank you," he replied crisply with a curt nod, careful not to show embarrassment of any sort, before turning on his heel and heading toward the staircase, mercifully unaware that the young man had actually guessed the direction of his thoughts…

Sam Fincher had a soft spot for the couple in the nuptial suite, despite the few times he had been somehow guilty of interrupting them at the most inopportune moment. But he couldn't blame them for being so much in love that they couldn't seem to get enough of each other. The man, when not upset with being interrupted, was kind, polite and generous. And judging by the way the maids, as well as more than a few female clients, were ogling him and giggling and whispering about how handsome he was, he could only come to the conclusion that ladies were finding him to their taste when it came to looks… At seventeen, Sam considered himself a man, but when comparing himself to Mr. Sully, he felt shortchanged, even somehow childish. He could only hope that one day, he would appear as handsome, strong and virile to a beautiful and smart girl as this man was to his wife… Sam smiled softly to himself, thinking how he would indeed feel on top of the word should he catch the eye of a beautiful, educated lady like Mrs. Sully. Right now, he knew a _boy_ like him wouldn't stand a chance to come between her and her husband. But the look on the face of the man now occupying the suite one-o-six told him that his lucidity wasn't shared. He could recognize vicious jealousy when he saw it, and he vowed to himself to keep an eye on that man so he wouldn't bother the newlyweds.

* * *

The day progressed with a mix of exciting productiveness and nail-biting unwieldiness for Preston. By noon, he had met with several prominent businessmen, secured a couple of juicy deals in the process, and even befriended the Denver Post's editor, who was from Baltimore, and with whom Preston shared many views from politics to economy, and even boxing. The two men had a pleasant lunch at Denver's best restaurant, and convened to meet again as soon as possible.

Then, following Ezra Leonard's advice, Preston made inquiries about nearby towns that might need a bank to further their development, and it didn't take long to found out that the town of Colorado Springs was there for the taking, as it had been newly equipped with a railroad station, and that the few businesses in that town were for the most part handled by the First National Bank of Denver. Preston got to meet with its president Jedediah Bancroft, a most unpleasant man who made even Preston Sr. look amicable and easy-going in comparison. Pretending to be interested in working for the bank as a local representative, he deftly wormed valuable information out of Bancroft, then, extremely pleased with himself, went on scouting for more investors for his banking venture. However he refrained from purchasing land before seeing for himself the state of affairs in the place.

He went to the train station to purchase a single fare to Colorado Springs, seriously hoping to get there in the evening, or at the very last the next morning. He'd been careful with wording his inquiries, but he still feared any of his interlocutors might suddenly think of challenging him should they realize there was indeed a wealth of opportunities at their fingertips – or more exactly only sixty miles southward. Taking risks was one thing, but he wasn't about to tempt fate too much right now.

But it seemed that his plans weren't meant to be running smoothly as once more, a most inopportune mishap occurred. When he finally stepped up to the ticket booth, after an agonizingly long wait of twenty eight minutes, he had the disagreeable surprise to be notified that he wouldn't be able to get a seat before the next Friday morning… at six-thirty! More than an entire day to waste, during which anything could happen? That was simply intolerable! Preston exploded with frustration and demanded to see a manager, but it didn't do any good.

The railroad official remained totally unfazed by this man from the East acting like he owned the Kansas Pacific, and pretending he knew powerful and influential people, like it was supposed to make the railroad employees cower. The manager even derived a secret pleasure at seeing this rude customer blanch angrily when he mentioned that there were still a few stagecoaches running, that he could board one the next morning to Manitou, and then – the manager couldn't help a little grin – rent a wagon to Colorado Springs. It was obvious that the Easterner wasn't quite ripened for the rougher lifestyle of the frontier, and not as well informed as he pretended to be.

Seething at the impertinence of the railroad employees, Preston still hadn't much of a choice but to either rise up to the challenge of traveling south on his own, or wait until Friday. He eventually opted for the latter, as he might benefit from allowing himself another full day in Denver, not so much on business, but to take time to recoup, start acclimating himself to Colorado and enjoy what little luxuries Denver had to offer before taking this huge step into the unknown that was life in a small frontier town. After all, how could he hope to make an impression on the locals if he arrived dusty, sweaty, and very possibly upset? He squared his shoulders, and once more stood in line. He would take the Friday train. He mused that all things considered, maybe fate was actually doing him a favor by holding him back…

A message from Ezra Leonard was waiting at the front desk, when Preston came back from the train depot in time for supper, inviting his younger friend to join him and a few of his associates and their wives at the theater. Even though Preston had already seen _Le Nozze di Figaro_ at least three or maybe even four times already, he still sent word back that he would indeed attend the representation with great pleasure. Who knew what he could learn from Ezra's business partners…

The evening went by about the same way as the rest of the day. The opera itself was disappointing, dull, even awkward at times, and Preston felt no qualms about berating everything from the singers to the orchestra and the director… At least he had the satisfaction that the rest of the group seemed to agree whole-heartedly with him. The other major fly in the ointment was that he spotted the couple from the room next to his in one of the boxes on the other side of the stage during the intermission. The theater being quite small, he could see them quite clearly. Once more, he felt the hard fist of envy punch him in the stomach as he took in the radiant beauty and refined elegance of the woman. She was wearing a vibrant deep blue gown adorned with black lace, the cut and color complimenting her delicate feminine frame. Yet, seeing her leaning toward her companion, that long-haired man who seemed as much at home in tails and white bowtie as a fish out of water, and whispering to him all through the representation, reawakened Preston's curiosity. What could she be telling her lover that was so important that it couldn't wait until the end of the show? Unless… Preston smirked to himself as he contemplated the idea that she could be telling her uncouth, probably illiterate lover the plot and translating the key moments so he wouldn't embarrass her should they have to discuss the opera with other patrons later…

At the end of the opera, he caught a glimpse of the couple exiting the theater rather hurriedly. He found it rather odd that the woman wouldn't want to linger and chat with the other ladies attending, but maybe her lover didn't allow her to befriend other people, keeping her jealously to himself… that wouldn't be surprising.

Though he wasn't quite suffering from a hangover, Preston still didn't feel up to a long night of socializing over cigars and brandy, especially after such a busy and rather successful day. He pompously declined the various invitations from his new acquaintances for a game of pool or a poker, pretending he was already expected elsewhere, when all he wanted was some peace and quiet, and a good night's sleep to be at his best the next few days, which would be critical.

Back in his room, he stepped onto the balcony to enjoy the late evening coolness. Colorado was already starting to grow on him, with its spectacular landscapes and vivifying air, that seemed to be there to stimulate a man's mind and body. Again, he was struck with another vision, that of a mansion where he would live, built in such a way that he would be able to enjoy an inspiring view no matter the hour of the day. Giddy with the prospect, he felt like smoking a cigar as a way of celebrating his successes of the day and the now certain ones of the future. He rummaged through his pockets for the matches, turning out first the slip of paper on which were written the names of prominent citizen and businessmen he had yet to meet. He found the small matchbox in his waistcoat pocket, under his watch, and momentarily put the paper on the stone balustrade to free his hands and light up his cigar. Unfortunately, a gust of wind blew the precious list a few feet away, making it flutter onto the neighboring balcony floor.

Cursing under his breath for his carelessness, Preston could only see one possibility to retrieve the piece of paper. He certainly was not about to go knock on the neighbors' door, nor would he ask a bellhop to go fetch it, as it might be blown even further away, maybe out of anybody's reach, by the time the staff came to his rescue. No, he would have to cross the gap between the two balustrades himself. Thank goodness, they were only a couple of feet apart, that Preston crossed easily enough, being athletic and agile from all his years practicing boxing and playing baseball. It did feel undignified, though, to have to use his sportive skills in such circumstances, especially as he risked being spotted by the mountain man.

There was a soft glow coming from the windows, hinting that the fire in the hearth was the only source of light. With extreme caution, Preston crept to the spot where the paper lay, only to have it snatched once more from his fingers by another teasing rush of air. Mindful of the inhabitants of the suite, Preston managed to refrain from voicing his exasperation, and could only express his impatience by a sour grimace distorting his features. Then he heard something. It sounded like a woman's voice, and yet not quite it. He had never heard anything like this. Curiosity got the best of him, and before he could think of all the reasons he had not to cast a glance in the room, he stepped nearer.

The sight of what was going on inside knocked the breath out of him. Though he could not make out all the details, the scene unfolding left very little to the imagination. Usually not one to be embarrassed or overwhelmed easily, Preston had to step back for a moment. He closed his eyes trying to shut out what he had just seen. It was not just the fact that the couple inside was in the midst of intercourse, nor that they were both in the nude and on the floor, instead of being in bed, under the covers, like any proper couple would be. No, what was so shocking about that intimate scene, was the expression of absolute ecstasy on the woman's face, her complete lack of inhibition as she moaned and cried while her lover was pleasuring her, in a way Preston found vile and submissive, further fueling his utter contempt for the man – and for the woman! She obviously did not know her place. Maybe this was the explanation of such an unlikely couple. She was an amoral female with deviant tastes, and maybe she was indeed married to an unsuspecting cuckold who might even be paying for the suite, while she sought satisfaction of her unnatural carnal needs with the most despicable, spineless types she could find, such as that filthy mountain man.

He risked another glance, only to find the woman now kneeling across the man's lap. Though the spectacle they were making of themselves profoundly disturbed Preston, it nevertheless sparked further his curiosity toward the woman. She was no longer matrimonies' material by any means to his eyes, but Preston wondered once more about what it would be like to have an affair with her, if she might act differently when consorting with a _real man_ … But there was no denying that the sheer sensuality that emanated from her, from the way she acted, how she moved, the sounds she made, all this was stirring Preston in spite of himself. He could not help the physical reaction brought on by what he was seeing and hearing, and shocked and angry, he moved away from the window. Shoving the piece of paper responsible for him being witness to the neighbors' hanky panky in his pocket, he retraced as silently as he could his steps back to his own room.

_So much for a peaceful evening!_


	3. Chapter 3

_As he was getting ready for bed, Preston had barely blinked before suddenly he was propelled onto the mattress with surprising force by a pair of rather small hands. A woman's hands. With the dying fire in the sitting area the only source of light in the otherwise dark room, he could not really make out her features. He could only guess she was naked by the reddish contours of her body painted by the firelight, that also lit up strands of her long hair, like an eerie halo. Her perfume, now that he was breathing it in up close, completely overwhelmed his senses, and annihilated all will power in him. He wasn't in charge anymore, but right this moment, it didn't matter._

_She took a few steps forward, the slight sway of her hips mesmerizing, until she was close enough to touch him. The sensuality emanating from her was like a heavy, intoxicating cloud in which he was hopelessly trapped. She reached out her hand toward the closing of his trousers, which seemed to vanish into thin air alongside the rest of his clothes. Even more bewildering, he couldn't feel her touch, and yet she had to be doing something to him, for he felt his excitation climbing higher and higher, until everything exploded in his mind, reducing his thoughts to a jumble of licentious images whirling round and round…_

* * *

_Thursday, June 2_ _nd_ _, 1870._

They said, 'Curiosity killed the cat'. Well, Preston Lodge would certainly not die from the consequences of an unfortunate peek, but he still felt like the price to pay for yielding to a rather natural impulse – _who wouldn't have looked?_ – was a bit too high.

He had been shaken awake by the unpleasant sticky wetness of a nocturnal emission, something that had not happened to him since he had become a man. There was something almost humiliating about being unable to wipe neither his memory nor his subconscious clean of the sight and sound of _her_ , let alone to be subjected to the unbridled fantasies his imagination could not help but produce, as if it wasn't nerve-wracking enough to know such a woman, so beautiful and gracious in appearance, was behaving so lasciviously behind closed doors… and sometimes in public! The way she let her lover fondle and kiss her without a care that anyone might see them was beyond indecent! And worse, how undignified to be forced to admit to himself that her depravation did excite him and made him want to possess this woman even more!

He slammed his hand on the nightstand in frustration: here he was, wasting his time and energy in lustful, hopeless thoughts, stuck in Denver for another day while his destiny lay awaiting only sixty miles south of here! But wasting time was unworthy of Preston A. Lodge the Third. He needed action more than ever, if only to take his mind off the spectacle his shameless neighbors had made of themselves every time he had crossed their path.

He decided to indulge fully in the amenities the hotel provided and summoned the hotel barber. One hour later, refreshed and on a mission, he quickly exited his room, but not without being strongly tempted to cast a look backward to the door further down the corridor, as once again the image of the woman's splendid nudity as she lay fully abandoned before the fireplace flashed through his mind, only he wasn't picturing the savage pleasuring her but… himself!

He didn't stop at the hotel's dining room for breakfast, should *they* show up. He would stay clear of them until his departure. In less than twenty-four hours, he would definitively be rid of their annoying presence nearby.

He selected a modest but cozy-looking café not far from Leonard's residence for coffee, eggs and bacon. As he waited for his food, he opened his copy of the Denver Post and enthusiastically, almost desperately, focused all his attention on the financial pages. He still had to read a few passages twice, as his concentration kept drifting away, stubbornly pointing to… _STOP! STOP THIS! I don't want anything to do with her! I don't want to consort with a fallen woman. I must STOP thinking about her, for Heaven's sake!_

His breakfast arrived, but his inner struggle had robbed him of his appetite, and he only managed to choke down a few bites before he gave up, folded his newspaper angrily and once again made a hasty exit.

As he ambled aimlessly, he contemplated returning to his room and allowing his frustrated lust to run its course rather than making vain attempts to suppress it, and if need be, seek relief. Surely there were some establishments in Denver that could provide capable, classy and discreet female company? But then again, he had to find something more constructive to do… the only reason he was so consumed with those obscene thoughts was because of idleness! He should be socializing with more businessmen, strengthen and develop his budding network of potential investors… he clenched his teeth, remembering the list of contacts that had been blown away and had led him to…

_STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP! That's enough!_

He made an about face and headed once more for Ezra Leonard's house.

The business man was already up and heading out himself when his protégé showed up on his doorstep. Though he had not anticipated this visit and had a busy schedule ahead, Ezra genially invited Preston to tag along.

In the cab, Preston explained how he was hoping to make the most of his last day in Denver to maybe meet new potential investors and get a greater measure of all the opportunities that Colorado had to offer to a shrewd businessman. The mere mention of the list of contacts he wished to expand made his cheeks prickle slightly, a sure sign he had reddened, the memory of the little slip of paper which had caused him to become a voyeur still fresh in his mind. Fortunately, Leonard didn't appear to notice and, better yet, offered his help by recommending some of his own business partners, and inviting Preston to meet a few of them that day. Feeling like his luck had returned, Preston accepted eagerly.

The rest of the day was a merciful and gratifying whirlwind of meeting new people, crossing paths again with others. At lunch Preston was back to his usual pompous, boasting self, regaling his audience with stories from his apprentice days, more than once proclaiming himself as the one who came up with brilliant ideas that brought fortune to his father's associates and investors. He nonetheless reined in his enthusiasm when it came to expose his plans and carefully kept his political ambitions to himself, playing it safe in front of potential concurrence. It would be much cleverer to first make himself indispensable to these influential men, and then gain their support, rather that presenting himself as an overly ambitious challenger. He knew all too well the natural penchant of any wealthy businessman to dash the hopes of the younger wolves by any means at their disposal: blackmail, intimidation, slander…

He eventually returned to his room after supper in the pleasant company of Leonard and his son, his frustration and disgust of the morning forgotten… That is, until he opened the French windows in the sitting area to go enjoy the mountain view with a Cuban cigar and a glass of the hotel's best Bourbon. He barely stifled an expletive when he heard _them_ … he sighed angrily, yet he didn't retreat into his room, deriving a masochistic pleasure in hearing her voice, soft and dreamy, as she mentioned something about her wish coming true, only to have to grit his teeth at the contrast between her refined speech and his atrocious vernacular. It made Preston even more disgusted that she could be so enamored with such a hick, as he listened to the rest of their exchange. And when the savage joked "So I'm just a prize to you? Not much of one!" Preston snarled under his breath "You can say that again".

At last they left the balcony, the echo of her soft laughter like a dull-edged dagger being twisted in Preston's gut. Once more his imagination ran away with him. He conjured up the memory of the previous night again, while fancying new details, and in his mind's eye, the woman was looking at him all the time, an inviting gleam in her eyes as if she was mutely begging of him to take over… The only reason he wasn't instantly aroused by the fantasy was the supreme envy that bordered on hate towards the man sharing her days and nights which overwhelmed him.

Furious and desperate for relief, he stormed into the washroom. He had a train to catch very early the next morning, and he needed to appear bold and confident to his future clientele. They would probably be wary of an Easterner to begin with, so he could not take any chance with the first impression they would have of him. It would not do to alight from the train harried-looking and ill-tempered….

Once he was ready for bed, he gulped down the last of his Bourbon, lowered the bedside lamp, and lulled himself to sleep with daring financial schemes and fantasies of political successes. Mercifully he quickly succumbed to his tiredness and was spared from further intercourse with wanton phantoms.

* * *

_Friday, June 3_ _rd_ _, 1870._

The new day dawned bright, clear and hopeful for Preston. The decided spring in his step as he galloped down the stairs of the hotel, the nonchalance with which he settled his bill and left for the train station told of his eagerness to begin his grand adventure of bringing civilization to the wilds of the western frontier. He would let nothing, nobody, stand in his way!

He pleasantly nodded to the other passengers already settled in the car, found an empty seat and shook his copy of the morning paper open. He had slept well, had time to groom carefully before leaving the hotel, and nothing – nobody- had interfered so far…

A rather rough-looking railroad employee stepped into the car to announce that the train might leave a couple of minutes later than scheduled. There were a few grumbles of protest, yet Preston was in too high spirits to mind much. However, his aplomb quickly dissolved when he spotted the guilty party of this delayed departure. The obnoxious couple from the hotel had literally jumped into the car, without so much as a proper apology. They plopped down on the bench right across Preston's, much to his growing displeasure. They were out of breath and conspicuously disheveled, though the man was clean-shaven, and the woman did a short work to straighten her appearance.

Preston wouldn't have put it past them to be late because of some debauchery on their way to the station. He nearly bit his tongue in refraining from calling them out on their lateness and their lack of modesty, but he didn't want to attract attention, let alone theirs, more so when he felt the savage's eyes on him, so he shielded himself behind his copy of the Colorado Statesman*.

This would be the longest and most uncomfortable two hours and a half Preston ever had to keep quiet and discreet. He tried to ignore them. He truly did! But each time the rumble of the train eased a little, he couldn't help but hear their quiet laughter. And each time he would involuntarily glance in their direction, he would see them so completely absorbed by one another it made him feel almost nauseous with an infuriating mix of envy and hatred. They were not doing anything improper and yet there was something obscene about how besotted they were. Not to mention that he was still haunted by the memory of the other night when he had had the misfortune of witnessing their fornication. He could still hear her uninhibited cries of pleasure, could still picture her form writhing on the rug...

STOP!

Thank Goodness he was almost there. When the car attendant walked in and announced that the next stop was Colorado Springs, he let out a discreet sigh of relief. Hopefully those two would soon be out of his sight and his way...

Alas! The pair seemed destined to remain a thorn at his side. The long-haired savage rose and dragged his mistress toward the exit as the train slowed to a stop. Preston heard the cheers of a rather large group of people outside and groaned. It seemed that not only the couple were from Colorado Springs, but given the enthusiastic chorus of greetings, he surmised they were rather popular among the rustics…

Preston paused to consider all his careful planning, the risks he had already taken in choosing this rather remote and backwater territory to conquer. He could not, he would not back down because a fallen woman and her uncouth lover just happened to live there. All things considered, as immoral as their behavior was, they were harmless to him. And if he played his cards carefully, he might even succeed in redeeming the woman's morality by luring her away from that mountain man…

His confidence and resolve restored, he rose as well, put on his stylish bowler hat, straightened his jacket and squared his shoulders. This time, Preston Lodge the Third would not come in second… but FIRST!

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I know that it wasn't issued yet in 1870, but I thought that it would be the kind of paper Preston would be interested in. Please allow me this bit of anachronism. This is just fanfiction after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you had as much fun reading this story about Preston than I did writing it. I had imagined this long before I ever thought of doing NIWS, it actually dates back to my first watching of the series in 1996, when Preston goaded Sully in Dead or Alive with his remark about how "remarkably sensual" Michaela is. He never showed other women in town this much disrespect, and to me it could only mean ONE thing: at one point, Preston must have walked in on the two of them during a private moment. Given his attitude at the train station, and Sully's obvious discomfort, I thought this plot could very well explain all the bad blood between Preston and Sully, and also, Preston's cavalier manners towards Michaela right from the start.  
> I'd love to read your thoughts, not only about this story, but also about what might have caused Preston's to treat M&S with more contempt than the other townsfolk. :)


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